The Doctor never admitted to the real reason why the TARDIS's chameleon circuits had 'failed' but I knew why.
The delicate, yet surprisingly small device nestled within the centre console, and I knew exactly where. I'd been a stowaway on the ship for three weeks now, it was easy to hide although small on the outside it was vast on the inside. Many of the 300 rooms of which varied in size were distributed over the seventy floors and sub-basements. I'd stayed clear of the swimming pool on the seventeenth because it was adjacent to where the Doctors current companion stayed. I didn't want to be discovered, not just yet.
The walls shuddered, and a great heaving sound echoed around the cavernous room I'd decided to call my temporary home. A noise I recognised, the TARDIS had materialised; landed whatever you call it.
Slipping down a spiral banister, dropping three floors in a couple of seconds, then a rickety staircase behind a picture of the blue box itself--a short cut that connected the twenty-first and third floors in just nine steps: space folded in on itself--so efficient.
I stepped through the small door at the bottom of the twisted staircase, and turned to look at the mirror it had become. I winced at the cruel scar that etched my face; a souvenir from my time on Phryxus where I fought their wolf-like army.